


O, Night Divine

by Deus_Ex



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Churches & Cathedrals, Escape, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Just one night, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nurmengard, OTP Feels, Past Lives, Seer Grindelwald, Snow, Things We Never Had, Things we lost in the Fire, Touch-Starved, Visions, What Should Have Been, What-If, Winter, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 23:39:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16901970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deus_Ex/pseuds/Deus_Ex
Summary: Gellert Grindelwald looks forward to Christmas every year, even if he doesn't know what day it is.





	O, Night Divine

**Author's Note:**

> I've been doin' some whump lately, so have some fluff. I dunno if this counts as spoilers, probably not at this point.
> 
> This is dedicated to DancedWithTheWind, who left me the most lovely comments on my past works for this pairing. <3 I hope this does indeed make your day, love!

It was one thing, Gellert mused, that they didn't tell you about solitary confinement: almost worse than the boredom was just how touch-starved you became.

It was fun enough to needle his guards, even if they didn't give him much response. They were only around long enough to grant him basic humanities and make sure he was still breathing anyway. He could kill a few minutes harassing someone a few floors away with little bits and pieces of magic he could sneak down that far. (Albus was too kind. His enchantments allowed Gellert little bursts of magic here and there. Nothing enough to really do anything, but he must have known that Gellert would be much less cooperative if he were truly separated from his magic.) All of this was well and good, except that nobody ever laid their hands on him. Never even sneezed in his direction. Knowing that they feared and respected him was lovely, but it was no substitute for skin-to-skin contact.

He took to daydreaming. And sometimes slightly more. The remembrances of an arm around his shoulders was enough to produce a longing shiver; the phantom caress of calloused hands was almost real he yearned for it so desperately; and the desire for all of his skin to be pressed against another, completely bare and slick with sweat while he moved with his partner, well...that was torture of the finest kind. The thirst rose in his throat and pooled low in his belly, and he found himself afflicted by an entirely different hunger than he could ever hope to satiate.

The face of the man he so wanted to see haunted him, but sometimes, it could still be his. At first, it was only when Albus looked into the Mirror-he knew when he did, somehow, and could stare out of it, letting just the smallest part of himself breathe again as he beheld Albus's beautiful visage, as of yet unchanged and so far still whole and hale. Somehow, he discovered that he could speak this way, and then, he began foraying into dreams, and he found that, with some convincing, one particular wizard charged with his care and keeping could be persuaded into slipping him bits of hallucinogens. Nothing absurd, of course: his favorite hookah, which always brought visions, or some marijuana or even lower doses of LSD. The migraines from both the drop and the visions were always stunning, but Gellert considered them worth it for the waking dreams he had.

One night, he found Albus's consciousness, floating idly while the auburn-haired wizard slumbered. Elated, Gellert wrapped his entire mind around Albus's, and the warmth was nearly enough to fill all of the cold, dead parts inside of him that had withered in his dreadful absence.

_Feeling nostalgic, hmm?_

Gellert quickened at the astute observation that was still just a tad bit off. _Missing you,_ he freely admitted, curling around his lover, his partner, his other half like a snake around a heat lamp. _Such cruel things you said, how I never cared for you._

_We both said things out of hurt, didn't we?_

_Hmm...I suppose we did. Still, I speak the truth now._

These little dream-excursions continued sporadically for several months, while the warmth of summer gave way to the crisp chill of fall which eventually faded into the harsh throes of winter. Gellert, if pressed again for honesty, would admit that he loved the winter. Snow, and ice, and cold were all so familiar to him. They were comforts, in their own right. And even if the stone castle of Nurmengard was drafty and chilly, a quick little warming spell worked wonders.

One winter morning, he woke up warmer than usual. More comfortable than usual. More whole and complete than usual. It is...odd, to say the least. And it takes him several seconds to regain full awareness and understand why he suddenly feels as though all of the missing pieces of himself have finally come home.

It's because Albus is here. Sitting on the bed, holding his hand in both of his own, looking down at him with such love and adoration on his face that Gellert hasn't seen since they were seventeen, and his heart swells to bursting with it. It leaps for Albus the moment Gellert recognizes him. Oh, they would all try to say that he was heartless-but Gellert Grindelwald did in fact have a heart, and it beat almost entirely for Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore.

"Mm...Liebling, is this another one of our dreams?"

And the look on Albus's face is too exquisite for it to be a dream: that perfect mixture of pain and defiance that tells Gellert that he is ashamed, but not sorry, that he is here, indulging both of them as the Mirror of Erised detailed. He looked away from Gellert, but Gellert just as swiftly sat up and chased him with his free hand. He found that, after so long without it, even the barest contact was ecstasy, and even in favor of something more and something better he would not give it up.

"No, Geliebter...this is all too real."

The sound of that old nickname sent a zing down his spine. It felt so natural and yet so foreign; it was like shaking dust off an old, well-loved book. Closing his eyes only for a moment, Gellert rippled briefly as he Transfigured his drab robes into something more appropriate. Albus, dressed neatly in a gray three-piece, looked positively dashing, and Gellert was suddenly painfully aware of how long it has been since he'd seen a mirror.

"You look fine," Albus stated crossly when he glanced back at him, settling down to sit at his side with their legs pressed together from hip to knee. Only Gellert knew Albus well enough to hear the affection beneath the veneer of irritation. Gellert merely hummed, not quite complacent, and dropped his head to Albus's shoulder. Albus made no movement whatsoever, except to lace their fingers together again even tighter.

"And you look perfect," Gellert meant to grouse, but it only came out as a wistful sigh. "You look well, but how have you been?"

Albus hesitated, opening his mouth briefly before closing it again, gazing off into the distance like he could see straight through those bleak stones. "I've been alright," he finally admitted. "Just...dealing with the fallout."

"I imagine there's quite a bit of that."

"Yes, you did a lovely job."

He'd be lying if he said his smile was anything but a pleased smirk.

A comfortable silence fell between them; Albus absently rubbed a thumb across the back of Gellert's hand. Gellert's eyes drifted closed as he struggled against breathing out and succumbing completely to the sensation. It was a comfort he'd been denied for so, so long, and he missed so dearly. Having it back now...he wanted to savor each and every moment. There was plenty of time later for falling asleep or letting his mind wander.

"It's getting cold," he murmured some time later, partly to keep himself from falling asleep and partly because he dearly loved listening to Albus's voice. "We must be getting on near Christmas now."

"It is Christmas, Geliebter. And today I miss you more than ever."

"We never spent a Christmas together, Liebling."

"Why do you think I miss you the most today, then?"

The longing in his tone would never match Albus's. It drove him nearly insane with the need, and before he could stop himself, he had swung a leg over Albus's, wrapped both of his hands around Albus's face, and dragged him into the kiss he'd been dreaming of for the better part of fifty years. When they were young, it was sloppy and inexperienced, made up for by pure passion. They never had a chance to have each other this way-after years and years and years of history between them, years they should have spent perfecting the art of being with one another. Now, the bitterness lent the sweetness a poignancy that was simply lacking before, and while Gellert had tried to take other lovers, none of them had ever felt as divine.

Hands in his hair; muscular chest against his; strong legs between his own; scent of parchment and dust in his nose; taste of lemon drops on his tongue; sound of a pleased yet amused hum in his ears; and the sight of his smile when he pulled away, oh, it would bring him to his knees! The only reason Gellert remained here, truly, was because he knew Albus would be forced to execute him if he broke free. And any world at all without Albus was not a world that Gellert cared for, be it this life or the next one.

"Let's do this properly, then." And he expected pushback. Excuses, reasons, logic, gentle persuasions, consolation prizes. What he did not expect was an eager, acquiescing nod, and arms around his waist, and the sudden, nauseating sensation of Disapparating-

"I didn't know you could Disaparate out of there," he grunted, clamping one hand down on Albus's shoulder as they set down in the middle of a snow-covered street. Not expecting it and not knowing the destination and having not touched true, deep magic in so long had left him dreadfully off-kilter. But he could feel it now, flowing through him itching to break free, and it occurred to him then that Albus had enchanted the room, and not him-

 _"You_ can't," Albus clarified, and Gellert merely chuckled at the brilliance. Was there anything Albus didn't think of?

As he regained his bearings, the surroundings began to trickle in. The street looked so, so familiar; there was a church off to the right and up the path a little bit. Victorian-style houses lined the street, guarded by waist-high wrought-iron gates and edged in colored, scalloped trim that perfectly accented their whimsical colors. The snow was still gently falling, leaving a perfect frosting over the evergreen trees' boughs and the bare branches of the rest. Lights were on in most windows, and the sound of children's laughter filtered out through the panes of glass. Up ahead, a choir sang in the church. A snowman sat on the front lawn to his right, waving at him with lopsided, scavenged arms. Straightening, shifting his hand to rest in the small of Albus's back instead of on his shoulder, Gellert scooched closer as Albus mirrored the pose. Looking around again, a second pass ignited the knowledge in his mind:

"Albus...Godric's Hollow?"

If he didn't know better, he'd say it was the shimmer of tears in Albus's eyes as he turned his gaze to him and answered, "Yes, Gellert."

Sucking in a deep breath that sent spikes of ice through his lungs, eyes widening, Gellert cast about one more time, this time in much deeper appreciation. This was everything they should have had, he understood: before he'd gone and mucked it up.

"Albus...I'm quite recognizable-"

"I don't care."

It was then that Gellert realized that Albus had been suffering, too.

He blinked away his mismatched eyes and darkened his platinum hair, and considered that enough. If Albus wanted his face, he would have it. Still, he wanted to head off trouble if he could. Sporting a few inches of sleek ebony locks and a pair of evenly-matched ice-blue eyes just like when they were boys, Gellert fell into step beside Albus as they slowly made their way down the street, feet crunching in the snow, and the scent of a fire burning in a chimney washed over them. Stepping close again, chasing the soothing weight of Albus's arm around him, Albus tightened his embrace in silent understanding and guided Gellert into the church.

_Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices! Oh, night...divine! Oh, holy night: when Christ was born!_

"Did your parents ever take you?"

Gellert smiled at the whispered question as they tucked into an empty seat in a pew at the back. _Oh, night...divine...! Oh, holy night...when Christ was born-_ "No," he mused, ignoring the glare from the older woman to his left as she caught sight of their joined hands. "You know, when I asked you to take me to church, this was not what I meant-"

Albus unapologetically chuckled at the remark. _Oh, night...divine...! Oh, night, divine!_ "My parents always brought us on Christmas. My mother...wasn't very religious. But my father always loved this song, and they always sang it."

Sensing the weight in the air, Gellert closed both of his hands over Albus's now. "I am very glad we got to hear it, then."

They sat in silence for the remainder of the service. The disapproving woman who had glowered at them coming in had to climb over them to approach the altar for communion; neither of the tall men shifted their knees to allow her easy passage, and remained unobtrusively seated while the rest of the congregation participated. She flounced back to their pew in a huff, but said nothing. When the service ended, both Gellert and Albus wordlessly stood in perfect harmony and exited the church ahead of the crowds lingering to chat with fellow parishioners and shake the hand of the priest. Hand-in-hand, they walked down the street again, pausing only for Gellert to nod towards the cemetery and ask Albus if he needed to pay his respects. Albus slowly, sadly, shook his head.

"Those graves are for me, not for them. They have no idea the flowers I leave there. I...I have come to terms with what has happened. Even if it is no easier to bear."

They walked again.

The next time they turned off the street, they entered a cul-de-sac that was at once like the feeling of home. Somehow, this village in which he had lived for two months had become home more than any other place. Gellert supposed it was where his heart resided. They walked down the familiar path next to Bathilda's house; they crossed the threshold that they had crossed a thousand times before, as they always did: hand-in-hand. Albus turned at the front door, toed it shut, kissed him chastely; their fingers never left each others' as they kicked their snow-packed boots off at the door and proceeded into the house.

Gellert started a fire in the hearth, reveling in the pleasure of doing it manually; Albus began assembling a meal. "Aberforth and I both come and go," he explained, pulling a pot down off one of the shelves in a cabinet. "But neither of us are here often. He has the pub and I have the school. We never could bear to sell it, though...so we drop in occasionally, look after it, keep it. Check in on Bathilda."

Nodding, Gellert drifted back to Albus's side. "And how is my aunt?"

"Aging," Albus replied, and the weight in his words spoke many volumes. "But she is stable, and she is happy. I am not worried yet. She loves her books and her writing, and until that ceases, I will not press her. Her magic and her mind are still as sharp as ever."

They cooked dinner seamlessly, like it hadn't been more than a day they'd been apart, and ate by the fire curled up on the floor against the back of one of the couches with several blankets and pillows piled around and on top of them. It was the bliss they always should have had, and the weight of it was crushing Gellert. A part of him wanted to proclaim fault on all sides, that it took two to argue, and so on and so on-but he knew, deep down, where the blame truly lie. It was his fault that this night was all they would ever have. But he would still savor every last moment of it, selfish and greedy as he was.

They cleaned up and then returned to the hearth. Sat for hours just breathing in the scent and presence of the other. Gellert let the glamour slip away from his hair and eyes. And when Albus turned to him with that same sorrowful longing that he'd caught glimpses of before, he let him have him as he always should have done: as slowly and gently and meaningfully as they were supposed to be, full of deep kisses and purposeful, communicative touches. Curled up again, nude beneath the blankets and uncaring of that fact, Gellert found that simply laying a hand on Albus's chest brought him the most enrapturing bliss. Feeling the heartbeat beneath his palm, the heat on his skin, the prickle and tingle like electricity-

Albus did him a kindness; he waited until he fell asleep. When he woke up again, he was cold and alone with the remnants of tears on his face and no memory of the agony of their parting. He inquired of the guards what the date was; December twenty-sixth, they answered, and left him again with his lackluster meal. Everything was exactly the same, he mourned: except the longing was twice as bad now. To have tasted Eden and been forced to abandon it...now he understood why they snickered and said that living was a greater torture than death.

But later that day, he found it: a red and gold feather quill, tucked beneath his pillow. Just like that, all of the anguish faded, especially when he saw the note: _Happy Christmas, Geliebter._ Gellert was delighted to find that any letter he penned with this quill received a prompt and heartfelt response that somehow bypassed all of his guards. And he always knew when Christmas was every year.

**Author's Note:**

> The little pet names are German affectations. Gellert's, "liebling," is most closely translated to "dear," and Albus's, "geliebter," is most closely translated to "love."  
> *thank you to jfrNcesca, Kiriva, and FrozenBrownie, the German-speakers/Germans who helped me fix my translations!
> 
> I wrote this in two hours in a single go. Pardon any typos/other mistakes.


End file.
